Two “Moms” and a “Ricky + Jenny Forever” today. I swear to fucking god.

Speaking of Moms. Mine wants to move in with me. She broke a hip a couple of years back, staining the back deck. My mom is an idiot like that. She never stops building shit, or sanding it, or fixing it. She was born with a lever up her ass. Once when I was like, nine, she got this whole blacksmithing forge thing set up in the back yard and made fireplace pokers to sell to tourists. She gave up after a summer, but the forge is still back there, all covered with ragweed and raspberry vines now. I keep offering to break it down and sell it for parts, but she says she’s gonna go back into the poker business someday. Whatever, she’s like eighty.

Point is, she was staining the new deck she fucking built, right, and slipped and broke her hip. She’s walking, now, with a cane, but that took awhile. So she wants to sell the house and move in with me.

This guy came into the office today with an enormous American flag/eagle/purple mountains majesty/death from above thing on his back. It was a fucking mural. He must have paid thousands to have that done, just for me to laser it off. But I guess he’s back from Buttfuck, Iraq and he gets the shakes whenever he sees it in the mirror, and I can respect that, but dude, what did you think, the little Iraqi kids were gonna see that eagle with biceps the size of their heads and just go all weak in the knees for democracy?

Zap, zap goes the laser. Make an appointment with Stephanie for another appointment when you’re healed up.

Stephanie. I hired her because she’s got that thing going where she looks all wholesome and Kansas and Presbyterian and has this smile like a commerical for breakfast cereal, but she’s got seventeen facial piercings and Maori flensings all over her neck and up across her jaw. Unremovable shit, that. Freaks people out. I guess that’s not a sound business strategy, but I think it’s hot. And she sounds like a Time/Life operator on the phone. Cheerful as fucking detergent.

And yeah, she maintains the website, so she probably reads this, but it’s not really a secret. I’m not smooth.

Yeah, I guess I could have come up with a better name. It was all I could do not to name this thing TATTTOOFAIL and post pictures of all the retarded crap that comes through my office every day. But, you know, confidentiality.

I guess it’s a little late to be getting in on the blog game. Like pissing into the ocean because your piss is just that awesome. Oh, well. I’m not exactly the early adopter type. Always in at the base of the pyramid scheme, that’s me. But my friend Drew talked me into this because once a girl who left all these ditzy comments on his blog ended up dating him for like a year, so I figure it’s better than eHarmony.